Real
by Misila
Summary: Dazai is used to nightmares, practically desensitised to them. But not completely.


_**Real**_

.

Nightmares are probably the oldest friends he knows.

He used to be terrified of them as a child; he would wake up yelling and struggling to free his limbs from the sheets and bury his tears into the covers, muffle his sobs and breathe deeply to calm down before he awakened anyone else. Nightmares were but a reflection of too many experiences in too few years; the consequences of bothering the wrong people, on the other hand, were quite real.

Nowadays his vocal cords have grown sore of screaming; his eyes dried up long ago. Now only his accelerated heartbeat as he stares at empty darkness betrays his brain's success in torturing him; most times he only turns to lay on his other side and closes his eyes again, determined not to lose sleep for such an unoriginal reason.

Tonight is not one of those times.

The cries are stuck in the back of his throat, chest heaving against the weight pinning him on the mattress– he struggles to break free from the nightmare, from the hands dragging him down; as he sits up he senses some clarity swimming through the darkness in his vision, identifies the deep sound coming from his right as a familiar voice.

His whole body trembles too much to make anything out just yet, though. The small part of him that is already bored of _this_ snickers at his inability to get completely desensitised.

Dazai ignores it, focuses on the shadows the lamp projects on the wall instead as Kunikida's voice grows clearer– and more anxious, as if he had had a nightmare, too.

"…listening? Don't just––"

Fingers curl around his wrist and he recoils on _reflex_ , unused to foreign hands touching the scarred skin that is usually carefully hidden under several layers of bandages.

Brown eyes finally find a worried expression fixed on him, the rejected hand half raised.

"Sorry," Kunikida breathes out, and it's only then that Dazai notices he has his own hands intertwined, protectively pressed against his chest. "I should've asked."

Under his hands Dazai can feel his heartbeat, so loud it makes him nauseous.

"A nightmare?"

Dazai only nods, because he doesn't know what might come from his mouth if he opens it.

"What about? Things I don't need to know," Kunikida guesses before Dazai can even look aside, "right?"

Another nod.

Silence settles between them, gentle and light as the shivers shaking Dazai's frame subside and his tense hands disentangle and land on the sheets, his heart returning to his chest. Kunikida looks down, clearly as lost as five minutes ago.

Dazai cautiously reaches for the hand he just swatted away, revelling in the warmth it radiates.

"Sorry I woke you up," he mutters.

His voice sounds raspy and now he is aware his throat itches, but he doesn't dare ask if he said something in his sleep. Kunikida squeezes his fingers.

"It's fine. Do you want some water? To calm down, or––"

"I'm calm," Dazai interrupts too sharply, leaning back down. He closes his eyes as he hears Kunikida switching the lamp off and lay next to him, opens them again when Kunikida tugs at his hand. "What?"

Kunikida squirms a little, as if struggling to make up his mind.

"Do you mind a hug?"

Dazai almost laughs. Even though he can only discern his partner's silhouette, he would bet his arm Kunikida's face is beet red.

"One would think it's you who had a bad dream," he muses, shifting towards him. His lips curl into a grin when Kunikida's arms trap him.

"No, I'm just the one you kicked in your sleep. _Twice_."

A giggle finally escapes Dazai's mouth as he closes his eyes again.

"You should have just kicked me back."

There is no retort.

Kunikida's arms just tighten around his waist to bring him even closer, and Dazai knows not asking about what he did before waking up will not be enough for his partner to forget it. But it's too late to bring any of it up.

"You're still trembling," Kunikida notes.

"Unfortunately, nobody has died from it."

Kunikida can't conceal a chuckle. His voice is serious when he speaks again, though. "Whatever it was, it's not real."

Dazai exhales slowly. _It was once_ , he thinks. But now it's not, so he only nods and makes himself comfortable, hooking his legs with Kunikida's and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt.

And he smiles

Back when he wandered a path of blood and death, there was no solace for him in the mantra that soothes most people. That reality wasn't much better than his rotten dreams.

But this world, spending the night in Kunikida's arms, is somewhere worth returning to from a nightmare.

* * *

What do you think about it? :3


End file.
